Decadence - Episode One
by percipient
Summary: The first of four parts in a story I planned on writing a long time ago. This was supposed to form part of a lengthy series. Episode One sees Steven and Polly teamed up with the Second Doctor, as they visit the legendary art gallery on the planet Credula. However soon they find themselves part of a violent revolt.


A blinding flash of light and a reverberated roar of thunder woke up Steven. He was lying rigidly on a sofa, jolted into consciousness by the coolness of which he sat in. At the sound of clicking, his head perked up to greet the source, but all he saw was a ridiculously dressed old man prancing around what appeared to be a highly advanced panel of machinery. Another click emanated from this technological marvel, as the stranger flicked a switch. The man must have been blind or purposely ignorant of him, as Steven was very much within his field of view. Wincing, he raised a hand and felt his forehead, only now aware of the unbearable pain there.

"What," was the only word he could assemble before the dryness of his throat overcame him, forcing several wheezing coughs as his mouth salivated. This seemed to get the unknown man's attention, as he wandered over and benevolently handed him a handkerchief.

"Credula."

"What?"

"Credula," the man boomed with authority, and by now Steven's mind was beginning to clear. Some sort of amnesia must have affected him, because he knew this man very well.

"Doctor," Steven said warmly, as if he had not seen his friend in several years, "what's going on?"

The Doctor looked at him quizzically, confused by his question. "It's perfectly simple. As I was saying to you, we've just arrived at Credula. Delightful space station, somewhat of a catalog of the greatest works of art produced on this side of the galaxy."

"Oh, now I remember," said Steven, though he wasn't quite sure he did. It took an excruciating amount of effort for him to lift himself out of the sofa and stand up, and as he swayed off balance and fell back into his seat, he realized that he was in the TARDIS console room. "My head feels like it's been bashed with a mallet."

"Evidently you must have bumped your head during that short bout of turbulence the TARDIS experienced a while ago." The Doctor patted him on the shoulder and then smiled. "Polly, would you be so kind as to get Steven a glass of water?"

Suddenly from behind him a young, attractive woman in her mid-twenties made her way past him and into a separate room of the ship. It became obvious to Steven that this unconsciousness must have struck him quite untimely, because he couldn't seem to remember this woman at all. Polly, that was what The Doctor called her; and yet he couldn't recall any friend or even person with that name, which was strangely archaic and not common in his time period.

She emerged back into the console room, this time carrying a glass of water. Despite conjuring a friendly smile as she passed him the drink, Steven still felt remarkably uneasy at this stranger postulating as a friend. A possibility of the water being drugged came over him, and he hesitated for a moment. But he had known The Doctor for many adventures, and this safety convinced him to drink. His head almost immediately began to clear, and he felt embarrassed by his own amnesia. Polly was perhaps once of his closest friends, and the two had accompanied The Doctor on many travels through time and space.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said and took the empty glass from Steven, obviously aware of the elation on his face.

"Yes, thank you. Doctor, where was it you said we had landed?"

"Credula. It's a space station deep in the Ataraxis nebula. Quite famous as a tourist landmark for its immense catalog of art," he looked over at Polly, taking note of her colourful outfit. "You'll fit in quite well I imagine."

She twirled around playfully, modelling her attire. "It's fab! I didn't even know you stocked these kinds of clothes in the TARDIS."

"I don't usually. It belongs to," the Doctor caught himself and glanced very briefly at Steven before coughing loudly. "I suppose we should head on out then?"

He pulled the opening mechanism on the TARDIS console, and the doors swung wide open. A rather warm breeze entered the ship, but not a single sound emanated from the exterior.

"Come on then, let's not waste time," said The Doctor as he waved his companions outside, who were both rather hesitant.

Steven was the first to step outside onto the cold and barren metallic floor. They had landed in some sort of gigantic room, containing no electrical lighting at all. In fact, if it weren't for the enormous windows that illuminated the room, it would be pitch black.

"Doctor," began Steven, still absolutely cautious of where they had materialized, "this place is completely empty. Are you sure we landed in the right time period?"

"Oh yes," he said rather pompously, "probably about twenty or thirty years past this station's 'golden age' of cultural advancement." He took note of Steven and Polly, who had just stepped out of the TARDIS and closed the doors, and decided to reassure them. "Look, it's a space station. There are bound to be a few abandoned rooms about the place, hmm?"

"Hah! Abandoned is a bit of a soft way to describe it." Steven walked over to what appeared to be a table and smeared his finger on it. "This whole room is covered in dust. It looks like it hasn't been visited for centuries, let alone thirty years."

"Come here!" Polly called. She had made her way to one of the large windows and was beckoning her friends over.

As Steven and The Doctor approached, she smiled and pointed outside. In the distance far below, hundreds or possibly thousands of people could be seen making their way through a bustling city. They were still too far away to clearly make out what these inhabitants looked like, or what kind of architecture the city displayed, but nevertheless it had now become clear that there was indeed a civilization below them. It was enclosed in some kind of gigantic dome, no doubt so as to keep the oxygen, gravity and air pressure regulated.

"Well that settles it then," said The Doctor. "We did arrive just as planned, and we must be on some kind of viewing platform, considering how we're able to overlook the city."

"I thought you said this was an art gallery?" Steven questioned."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I said Credula possessed a vast art catalog. This is still very much a human colony, just one that has dedicated itself to the preservation of art."

"And do you suppose we're just going to be allowed to walk in and view at our own leisure?" This time Polly had begun interrogating The Doctor.

"Of course. Credula prides itself on being a public tourist attraction. To be honest I'm surprised we weren't given some sort of welcoming committee. Their hospitality is rather famous throughout the galaxy."

"With our luck you probably landed us inside a janitor's closet," joked Steven. The Doctor, however, was not amused.

"Come now, let's stop this dawdling and get on with it." He clasped his hands together and strode around the room for a bit, trying to determine an exit. Surprisingly though, the entire room seemed to be completely enclosed, except for three various dips in the wall that could perhaps be doors. The Doctor walked over to one of them and felt for some kind of gap he could force open. To his surprise, it flung itself open as soon as he approached.

"Well that's certainly something. Must be a kind of elevator." He proceeded to point at the other two. "I suppose each lift leads to a different area of the city."

He stood briefly for a moment, as if waiting for Steven and Polly to react. Polly was the first to catch on. "No Doctor, we don't know what kind of place this is."

"But I do," he proudly announced, "it's completely safe. Any civilization careful enough to house one of the greatest museums surely must have some amount of intelligence and benevolence, surely?"

The question was of course rhetorical, and Steven jokingly pushed her towards one of the elevator doors. She laughed but maintained a serious tone. "How will we know when we find this art museum?"

Steven interrupted. "Polly, surely you've been to one before? It's not exactly ordinary, I'm sure you'll spot it." He then turned to The Doctor. "However I'm more concerned about meeting back again."

"An hour of investigation, let's say? Then we shall meet back here at the TARDIS and see if anyone has found this prized museum."

"Right," said Steven, as he made his way into one of the lifts.

The Doctor was the first to leave. Polly and Steven caught the brief grin on his face after he pressed the button and it made the rather typical 'ping' sound, before descending to the city. Then Steven began to feel the ground beneath him shake, and before he knew it the elevator was in motion. It was traveling surprisingly fast for a rather unsteady looking contraption. There were no windows around him, meaning he had no idea just how far he had come from the viewing room, but he imagined by now it would be several miles.

The lift landed rather elegantly, and unlike when they had first arrived on Credula, when the elevator doors slid open a rather cool breeze struck Steven in the face. As he stepped out, he immediately took note of the shift from purely metal textures to a concrete pathway. He had appeared in some kind of street, evident from the various buildings that lined the path which stretched on for miles. Just like they had seen back at the top of the station, this area also had an expansive transparent dome separating it from the harsh exterior of space. He wondered exactly how this station maintained itself, if the oxygen was produced naturally or vented throughout. Upon inspection of a small fern garden, he concluded the latter, as the plant was completely artificial. Although his earlier comparison of this place to a street still withstood, he did notice that unlike such, this had absolutely no residents. Perhaps it was night time though? Which made him question how it could even be night and day out in the middle of space, although the various streetlamps around likely simulated a day and night cycle. He proceeded along the pathway through the barren streets, and began to take note of the buildings. Almost all of them had cracked and smashed windows, as though a scavenging party had recently raided them. Perhaps The Doctor was not so correct after all about Credula being a safe haven of intellectual accomplishment. One of the buildings he approached looked like a country house, with its incredibly old-fashioned brick construction and active chimney. Considering it was one of the few buildings that didn't have demolished windows, he decided to approach it.

He knocked on the door, but before he could rattle a second time it swung wide open. Steven stood motionless in the doorway before uttering a greeting. "Anyone home?" No answer. The whole situation had become rather like a horror cliche. Pretty soon he was anticipating an axe murderer to appear from the corners of his eyes.

What he did not expect, however, was to hear the loud booming of a drum in his immediate vicinity. Whether the sound was masked by his own fear or was masked by the landscape was irrelevant, because outside the house marching down the path was a band of people. Despite banging drums as if militaristic, none of them were marching or in formation, and certainly none of them were dressed to be in the army. Most of them were dressed rather poorly, from baggy, torn clothes to some who were actually shirtless. The clarity of his view of the crowd also meant now that he was in clear view of them. Many took obvious notice, looking him up and down as they passed, but ultimately indifferent to his existence. Steven was unsure whether he should hide or remain still seeing as no one had minded thus far, but a loud voice determined his next move.

"You there lad," it called out. The source was unclear but the target was obvious. "Get in here and do something."

He proceeded to walk towards the clan, trepidation filling his every step. But still none of them minded. In fact, they had begun to chant something, but their total ignorance of rhythm or timing meant the message was impossible to decipher.

Steven wedged himself between one of the drummers, two men who were busy shouting something and a woman that seemed as though she didn't want to be there. She looked at him, and he smiled in an attempt at friendliness, but she fell back into the crowd and vanished.

The crowd continued in their ambivalent march, as Steven tried his best to blend in by looking stern whenever a chant would begin. It was not until a rather tall man at the front of the group began to address them that there was any sort of composure, as everyone became attentively motionless.

"My friends," said the man with a distinct, conceited assurance in his voice, "the day is here at last. The elite will fall, just as our brothers have in defending this strong community. We will no longer be viciously slaughtered by the industrial machinations of those in power."

There was a buzzing of applause and cheer, when the speaker carefully bent down and grasped a rock in his hands. He eyed it, and the people, before hurling it at a vulnerable house window. The impact had not be strong enough to shatter the glass, resulting in a rather embarrassing ricochet to the ground. However, even something such as this was sufficient enough to motivate the masses, who all began shattering the windows of those houses nearby. At this point, Steven had begun to seriously doubt the Doctor's initial observations of Credula.

Polly received a similar entrance to Steven; the elevator had landed, she had stepped out and seen the all-encompassing dome and questioned the artificiality of the fauna that surrounded her.

However unlike the district that Steven had arrived at, this one was bustling with life and was far more accurate to the outside world they had seen where the TARDIS landed. Many people went about their day, moving along the pathways and interacting with the many rather ugly houses that uniformly sat alongside. Rather than looking cosy or hospitable, these houses were more like sizable blocks of hollow cement. The people were similar in their uniformity and tasteless appearance; all of them wore grey shirts and trousers, making it impossible to separate them from each other.

She had become aware of the simultaneously perplexed and terrified looks she had been the receiver of up until now. The brightly coloured outfit she was wearing made her identity as an outsider quite clear. Perhaps, she thought, it would be better to move to a less crowded area.

Through several streets she walked, each one causing no blow to the environmental observations she had thus far recorded. However, it had become apparent by now that she was being followed; it surprised her to have noticed this, as there was so little to distinguish person from person. And yet it had become obvious in the continuous movements of someone from behind her, that had separated them from the rest; for whilst everyone else moved with a complete disregard for wherever they were going and the others around them, this individual was quite assured in their destination.

Being in a new location and new society made a clear decision difficult for Polly, who had become anxious to lose this stalker. She decided to move from street to street through the alleys that lay between the houses. This way the person would need to increase their distance from her to avoid detection, giving Polly a chance to escape.

However as she made her way into the first alley, the individual was not deterred. In fact he sped up, and began running at her. Her instincts kicked in and she too began to run, but couldn't compare in speed and was forcibly grabbed by the assailant, who landed a cold fist on her face, knocking her into an unconscious void of black.

Inside the lobby of a museum, the Doctor's lift landed. He sighed quite deeply, for despite his confidence when talking to Polly and Steven, he was not so sure the elevators would take them to Credula's museum. By now, he imagined, the two of his companions must have been running wildly through the many galleries here. He would be sure to meet them in due time.

For now though, the Doctor had become awestruck with a painting that was nearly six-thousand years old. Widely regarded as the single greatest artistic achievement from its planet of origin, the Doctor couldn't help but be mesmerized by its meticulous construction.

So much so that he had seemingly not been aware of the figure that lurked behind him. That observed as he murmured and gasped with praise at the sight of the picture. Even when this shadow raised and cocked his revolver, the Doctor remained entranced. Only when he fired a single shot did he react; collapsing on the ground and desperately turning, to try and gain a final glimpse of the man that took his life.


End file.
